


Different

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Samifer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They shouldn’t treat you differently because of me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different

**Author's Note:**

> So this was sitting in my drafts when it should have been published. Yikes!

Sirens are wailing. Screeching. Metal birds screaming from their gray posts, rising and falling in a way where sound is painted in a circle. One can nearly imagine the hand that’s cranking the siren and the desperate strain of muscle at the continued event. Darkness is beginning to bleed into the horizon, jaws of shadows swallowing the sun whole and Sam Winchester can only feel his jaw tighten. 

Fire blooms and shoots into the sky, buildings of concrete and metal incinerating as if it is plastic against a blowtorch. Hellish fire burns and burns, but the darkness swallows it. Teeth cut out of shadows gnawing and tongue curling around the flames, sucking it down a hazy gullet of ash and pitch black. 

Sam is sure he could hear screams. Could hear them crying for help. Imagining that as they run that something trips them. Hands grabbing their ankles and dragging them into the depths of this disaster. How their nails break as they claw at the pavement. How they bleed. This city was now captive of this onslaught of blood, painting the street red if only this eternal nighttime would lift to let Sam see its shine. 

A twisted Sodom and Gomorrah, destroying the city from inside through fear and pain. 

Ash falls from the sky like snow and Sam feels sick. Can feel nausea boiling and stewing about in the pot of his stomach, because this was because of him. This city was nothing but history, crisped and sunken, rusted memories to only hold it up for so long. So many lives were gone in a horrifying show of defense and protection to Sam’s pride and honor. This city ridiculed him, treated him like a pariah because he could not walk on holy ground. He had demon blood in him and he could not enter. So a solution was made and the city was of no more, the arching pillars and laborious architecture and beauty into the chapels and churches. 

Vatican city was demolished. 

_“He cannot touch sacred grounds. You should know better,” an expressionless angel is staring at Castiel as its partner is standing restlessly beside him, staring anxiously at Sam. Sam watches all eyes turn him and he’s reminded that he is a freak. He is this boy with the demon blood and no matter how many times he saves this world -- humanity, he will be defined as this._

_Dean goes to say something but Sam is the one who silences him. “It’s okay. I’ll stay here. You two do what needs to be done. I’ll probably be safer here, anyways.” Sam finds it hard to hide the bitterness in his voice and how, once again, he has to sit on the sidelines._

Sam was only here in search of a tablet, whisked away by Castiel, and here the day was ended in a solitary coldness that came when death walked through the streets. 

Yet despite the guilt and numbness racing underneath his skin, a quiet part of him was...flattered. Sam instantly hushes and shoves that sensation aside, because that was wrong. But here was this archaic and breathtaking city now in ruins because it refused to grant him entrance. Here were all these lives, these buildings, and this history stomped into fine sand so he may walk through. The protectiveness shown by his unlikely guardian angel was appreciated and worrisome. 

As if summoned, ash about his feet stirred and Sam felt a wave of cold air lick his left side. To his left there was the blond angel, covered in ash as those primordial blue eyes flared like headlights in the gray scene. Sam wants to hiss at him, shout and explain angrily that what he did was wrong because that’s the correct reaction. Instead he keeps his mouth shut and stares, unable to find any words and so remained stuck in confliction. 

“They shouldn’t treat you different simply because you’re unique,” the archangel breaks the silence and there’s a harsh twang in his voice that sounds like nails against a chalkboard, air humming in energy as he spoke. Grace. “They shouldn’t treat you differently because of me.” 

Lucifer’s eyes turn to him and it’s haunting. This body before him was not Nick. It’s a semblance of him. Patched and pitched together hazardly, more bones and open flesh than supple and whole. Sam thought him a hallucination at first. But this one did not tease nor taunt. This one pulled itself out of a grave and broke a tradition of discrimination by burning the base of it all. Sam knows in but minutes this phantom -- this walking corpse will break and only a footprint will be left by the archangel. 

Sam wants to ask. Wants to scream at him why he came to this Earth again so goddamn broken, Hell haunting him like a never ending nightmare. How he can just come back to Earth and do this. To do this and challenge what he felt. What his walking memories of Hell told him. He can’t. He can’t seem to formulate the words, to express his frustrations and distress on this chapter of his life. 

One of Lucifer’s eyes brightens, like a lightbulb whose glass exterior has shattered, blue flaring. It prompts Sam to move. He walks tentatively to the silent archangel, raising a hand to nervously lay it across the archangel’s deteriorating and ash-covered jaw. Lucifer leans into it, eyes closing.

“Thank you,” the hunter finally whispers and Lucifer finally exhales, as if this impossible and enigmatic entity was holding his breath for this human before him. Leaning forward, Sam kisses him lightly on those split lips. He tastes blood and something sweet like juice from a fruit spilt into his mouth. Before Sam can open his eyes, light bombardes him, squeezing his eyes even further shut until it gradually fades. 

When Sam opens his eyes, he finds just ash twisting and twirling on the ground from a passing breeze. Lucifer is gone. Sam stays still for a moment before turning to his hand, eyes finding the faint scar on his palm. 

When Castiel and Dean find him, Sam is running his fingers across his scarred hand and feigning ignorance on the matter altogether.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


End file.
